Invasion of Privacy

have gotten right, that’s all.”
    Lifting her wineglass, Loiselle said, “Olga was playing, actually.”
    Speaking of whom. “Before she joins us, anything else you can tell me about Andrew Dees?”
    Loiselle put the glass down again, spreading her hands on her thighs as though she were wiping the palms. In a serious tone, she said, “I’m sorry... John, right?”
    “Right.”
    “I know you’re trying to help Olga—and God knows, I think she needs it—but I’ve been flip as hell with you because I skipped lunch and had two glasses of Bonny here when I should have stopped at one.”
    “That’s all right.”
    A sniffing that had nothing to do with the wine. “Andrew Dees. He wants to be with Olga, but not enjoy some things with her. Take tonight, for instance. He’ll go to the ballet, or even a folk concert. But while Olga loves opera— especially Puccini and Verdi—he won’t budge on it. Listening to a CD of the Three Tenors? Fine. Going to see Pavarotti live? Not a chance.”
    “There has to be something more than that.”
    “No, there isn’t, and that’s my point. It’s like I said on the stairs before. An -drew’s a cipher, an android. He—”
    “I am so sorry to keep you waiting.”
    I stood up at the sound of Olga Evorova’s voice. She came into the room, dressed in a black gown with silver sequins at the shoulders and holding a sequined handbag in the shape of a dinosaur egg. Wearing more makeup, she now looked glamorous rather than merely attractive, and I began to wonder why Andrew Dees wouldn’t want to be out and about with her, appreciating the attention she’d garner.
    Claude Loiselle rose from her loveseat. “I’ll just go powder my nose while you two talk.”
    “No,” said Evorova. “I would like you to be here, Claude.” She turned to me. “Unless it would destroy some of the confidentiality we discussed, yes?”
    I said, “As a client, you usually can have a confidante with you. If you want Ms. Loiselle—”
    “Claude,” said Loiselle.
    “And I am Olga, please.”
    “Olga,” I said, “if you’d like Claude to be here too, that’s fine with me.”
    Sitting back down, Loiselle shoved over a little, and Evorova joined her on the loveseat.
    I sat so that I was facing my client directly. “I went to Plymouth Willows, acting like I was representing another condo complex interested in hiring Hendrix Management.” Evorova only watched me, but Loiselle nodded in quick bobs, like she’d already known that.
    “I spoke to Hendrix himself before the neighbors, just to make it look right, and then to Mr. Dees afterward. However, about three hours later, a couple of guys roughed me up behind my office building.”
    Evorova’s jaw dropped as she sucked in an audible breath. Loiselle leaned forward, elbows on her knees, concentration cutting through the wine haze.
    I said, “They warned me off Hendrix Management, saying it wouldn’t be a good idea for me to investigate the company or the projects it handles.”
    The two women exchanged looks.
    Then Evorova spoke to me. “Hendrix and Plymouth Willows, but nothing about Andrew?”
    “That’s right. Hendrix wasn’t nuts about seeing me, but the other neighbors were more or less cooperative.” Loiselle said, “And An -drew?”
    I spoke to Evorova. “Not cooperative at all.”
    My client dipped her chin, as she had back in my office. “So you think maybe it is the Hendrix company that is the problem, or maybe it is the condo complex, or maybe it is Andrew.”
    “Right, and no real way of telling which, since everybody in those three hours would have had time to sic the goons.”
    “I am sorry?” said Evorova.
    Loiselle patted her friend’s forearm. “Call for the bad guys.”
    Evorova looked to me. “What do you recommend?”
    “If there’s something sour about Hendrix’s operation, maybe the complex should get rid of him. If it’s the complex, maybe Mr. Dees should move.”
    Evorova let out a breath. “And if it is Andrew, maybe I should know, yes?”
    “I think so.”
    “Me too, Olga,” said Loiselle.
    Evorova closed her eyes for a moment. Opening them again, she stared at me hard. “How can you do this?”
    “I’d like to try tracing Mr. Dees backward, and the only sure thing we have is him telling you he graduated from the University of Central Vermont . That means a trip up there, and it would be a help if I could have a sample of his signature.”
    “His signature?”
    “Yes. For me to